Yes folks it's back to work tomorrow. Back to the 6am alarm call. Back to dragging my knackered carcass out of bed in an attempt to make the 8.10 morning meeting. And, it's back to me having little time for myself and my life. I have often described myself as leading a double life. One persona I have is as a teacher, the other is as a carefree, fun-loving twenty something who loves to spend hours reading, writing, walking, painting her nails or shopping. It is hard to mix the two, in my opinion.
I'm sure you know by now that there is nothing I like more than having a little lie in, getting up, having a coffee, mooch around the house for a bit and perhaps spend the day drinking more coffee in the coffee shop and shopping or simply just enjoying my own company either reading or writing. There is so little time for that during term time, which of course I know is any working person's dilemma, and not just mine.
One thing I have missed over the past year is keeping fit, or infact doing any physical activity at all! During my degree and when I lived at home, (home being my parent's house), I would go to the gym on average three times a week. I would do a mixture of yoga classes, machines in the gym, swimming, even a spot of new York ballet, but best of all was the body combat classes. I absolutely loved those classes, an hour of literally non-stop high level cardio workout, chopping, slicing, punching and kicking to the fastest and loudest music the instructor could find!
When I lived with Shills, we were both members of a swanky gym along the road, mind you it was next to and underneath the local market street so our walk to the gym often involved dodging mouldy pears and cabbages that lay abandoned in the street and the leers of the markets traders, 'alright luv' fancy a feel of my banana,'. Errrr no thanks. Anyway, I digress. I continued the body combat classes at this gym; it was my third year of attending these classes in all. I was in my first year of teaching and as a newly qualified teacher, was finding life just completely knackering and I suppose emotional. Shills and I would turn up to the classes and half way through I found that I could not do it. I left the studio and I just felt really upset. The anger and aggression that the body combat had brought out of me made me feel tearful and I couldn't return to the room. At the time I was having a particularly hard time with a certain year 10 class and they were obviously wearing me down more than I realised. The stress that this year 10 class was causing me, paired with my general tiredness meant that I gave these classes up.
I am in a different place now; I am confident in my teaching abilities and my job has changed since I was a NQT. I think it's time I got my lycraed butt down to the leisure centre to start slicing, punching, kicking and uppercutting to ridiculously fast dance music before I turn into a fat thirty-something , who has let her job get in the way of her life...and figure!
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